Breaking and Entering
by IHateRaisins
Summary: Liz gets an unexpected and very frustrating intruder in her home who provides a romantic dinner by candlelight and some entertainment while Tom is away...also making Liz question her feelings for Red and the man she thinks she's married to. Lizzington. Not sure if I should continue? M for later sexual references.


_Hey there. I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I'm just a huge fan._

_This story is set around the 7th episode, where Liz was upset with Red for implicating Tom, so it's fairly early times. I'm not sure if I should continue or if it's just a ball of silliness, but let me know if its something I should expand on. I hope it isn't really bad and I hope you enjoy it despite this._

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_**Breaking and Entering**_

Liz hadn't realized anything was amiss in her home with Tom, just until she had arrived home and was standing over the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth. She had changed into a long band T-shirt that fell just below her knees and felt ready to head to bed. Today had exhausted on her; Another name was eliminated on the Blacklist and it had been a day full of constant danger.

Ever since Raymond Reddington had entered into her life, that was what it mostly consisted of now. Sketchy leads and danger around every foreseeable corner.

She felt physically drained, but that was mostly to do with Reddington. Ever since she had told him to 'Go to hell' after setting up her husband, she had been determined to ignore him. It wasn't easy when they were supposed to be partners working together, and he seemed eager to try to get her into forgiving him.

She heard music come to life downstairs, floating around the living room. _Was Tom home playing one of his CD's? _Then she heard somebody opening drawers and rummaging around, setting out China plates and cutlery. She rinsed her toothbrush under the faucet and listened intently. Tom was only the reasonable explanation she could find into what was happening downstairs. _Maybe he came home and wanted to surprise her with dinner?_ If so, she was very, very surprised.

She turned and peered at the illuminated red numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand near the bed. It was ten-thirty. Tom wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow evening; He had a teacher's conference, or so he told her. _So why the hell was he home now? Unless he left... early?_

"Tom?" she called out. "Are you home? Is that you downstairs, babe?"

When she received no answer, she went over to the closet, found the baseball bat Tom and her kept in there in case, and tightened her hands over the aluminum handle. It was the very same baseball bat she used in high school, brought by her father Sam, when she developed an interest in sports. She hadn't used the thing in a very long time, so she practiced her swing before slipping out quietly into the hallway.

She rounded the stairs on tiptoes, listening carefully. The CD was a compilation of 80's tracks and she recognized Wang Chung's _Dance Hall Days_ blaring from out of their stereo system.

She could faintly hear someone moving about in the kitchen and then she heard the clicking of a lighter going off. _Was someone planning to set her house on fire?_ After Ranko Zamani, one of Red's targets at the starting point of their "partnership" had waltzed into her home and badly hurt Tom to the point of him being on life support, she didn't want to take any chances. Loosening her fingers over the handle of the bat, she began treading down the stairs as softly as humanly possible. Then just as she reached the threshold into the kitchen, she spread her legs a width apart, crouching slightly, ready to aim the bat at the intruder in her house and take a large and _hopefully_ painful swing.

Her heart was pounding in her chest and she began trembling. If it was in fact Tom, usually he would have made himself known the instance he had arrived in. But the fact he hadn't answered her, it told her it wasn't Tom but another intruder altogether.

Someone had invaded into her home. And now, they were probably doing odd things to her dining room table.

Before she lost her courage completely, she whirled into the kitchen, feeling momentarily paralyzed from the head down. Someone had prepared the table for dinner, setting two empty China plates beside each other, and hell, there were even lit candles going, emitting soft flickers of light around the room from where they sat in the middle of her dining room table.

_What the hell was going on? _

Then she found a man standing by the open door of her refrigerator, his back turned to her as he searched through the contents of her fridge. She didn't recognize the man's silhouette at all; With just the candles presenting the only source of light, the entire room felt too dark and unfamiliar to her.

Choosing to startle her household intruder, she made a loud noise, stomping her bare feet against the hardwood floor.

"What are you doing in my house?" she demanded, trying to sound as menacing as possible. "Why are you playing my CD's? Why are you going through my refrigerator at this hour? Who the hell are you?"

The man turned to face her and she found herself staring directly into the eyes of a very alarmed Red. Adrenaline raced throughout her body at the sudden recognition of him, the bat slipped clumsily from her fingers knocking to the floor by her toes loudly, and he regarded her with some amusement as he stood to his full height.

_Red. In her house. Fixing her dinner. How? What? When?_

"Good evening, Lizzie," he said cheerfully, despite her state of distress. His eyes roamed down the sloppy long shirt she was wearing, and Liz suddenly felt embarrassed and under-dressed in front of him. "You were just about to get into bed, I see. Shame, because I would hate to waste all this food I brought." He gestured towards some takeout containers near the sink. A bottle of red wine was sitting by them unopened. "I thought now would be an excellent time for that therapy session we are so needing, wouldn't you agree?"

_Ah, so this was what it was all about..._

Liz finally understood his reasons into breaking into her home. Her shortness with him at work and her refusal to sometimes even acknowledge him properly in the same room was starting to truly get under his skin. Still, it was no excuse for the man to break and enter into her home and frighten her half to death in the process.

"What are you doing here, Red? What made you think you could break into my house?" Slowly it occurred to Liz that she was shouting, so she deliberately lowered her voice, trying to speak softly and reasonably. "I could have very nearly had you down on the floor after I clobbered you half to death with my baseball bat. What _the hell_ do you think you are doing in my home?"

Without answering her and putting her mind at ease, he began opening cupboards one by one. When he found two glasses for the wine, he grabbed the wine bottle and started walking over to the kitchen table. She stared at him, watching his every move, growing more incensed as every second passed on by.

She took three swift strides, slipped in front of him, and slammed her hand down on the table so hard it shook.

"Well, what's your excuse?" she demanded. When he blatantly ignored her by placing the two glasses on the table and pried the bottle open with a corkscrew, she slammed her fist down on the table again. He regarded the noises she was making with little more than amusement and silent mirth. "Damn you, you can't just feel free to enter into my house where I live with Tom! Boundaries; There _has to be_ boundaries. Clearly you don't understand the concept!"

He filled the two glasses generously with red wine and held one out to her ceremoniously. "Shiraz, Lizzie?"

Liz shut her eyes, naïvely praying that if she stood there with them closed long enough, maybe he would vanish out of thin air. Unfortunately for her, when she slowly reopened them, he was standing exactly where he was. "Why are you here in my home? How did you even get in here? I locked all the doors."

"I'm a criminal, Lizzie. Entering into someone's home without a key isn't difficult for me to do."

"Then I'm sure you'll find it just as easy showing yourself out," she said bitterly. She tried to be sensible, despite the situation he had thrust her into. "I want you to leave, Red. I want you to leave my house this instance. Coming in here like this, invading my privacy... it is _not_ acceptable."

"We seem to be having a little problem, Lizzie." When he placed her ignored glass of wine on the table, he stepped closer towards her, hands held out at his sides in a placating gesture. She didn't see any threat, but still she stepped back out of his range. "You won't talk to me, you're ignoring me, and when you don't talk to me it takes away all the fun. If we are going to resume like this, then I have no interest anymore. And if I have no interest, its goodbye and good luck to you and all of your bumbling team of FBI Agents."

"Right. So it bothers you that much that you chose to actively break into my home during the night? I mean, what are you doing, Red?" She shook her head helplessly, waving her hands around the table, at the plates, the candles, the intimate setting, the music. "What are you trying to accomplish? You wanna force me into sitting with you and sharing half-assed, pleasant conversations over dinner and glasses of red wine? Is that it?"

The entire situation was ridiculous, unreal of him.

"Do you _really think_ all of this will excuse what you've done?"

He met her eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching, "And what exactly have I done, Lizzie? Do tell me."

She could tell by his soft, breathless tone of voice that he actually believed he hadn't done a single thing wrong. It was ridiculous.

"Well, for a start, you're trying to drive a wedge through my marriage to my husband. You _set_ him up. You placed _forged_ passports into our home..." She sucked in a deep breath as the words continued spilling out mercilessly in a rush. "You _lied_ and made up that he had some connection with this Gina woman, which was completely false and fabricated. Can you really blame me for wanting nothing to do with you at work? Can you really not see or understand where I'm coming from?"

Red held up his hands above his head. A universal sign of surrender, or peace. A declaration of no weapons.

"I didn't come here tonight to argue with you, Lizzie," he said, his voice soft and deep. "I came here because I want all of this resolved between us. I have no interest to continue on like we are and, as I just stated, if I have no interest, I walk. Simple as that."

"It _isn't_ that simple. You can't just walk whenever you feel like it. You have a deal with the government. Plus, you have a tracking device stuck in your neck. If you walk, you're not going to get very far, are you?"

"You don't think I can vanish and cease to exist, Lizzie? I can disappear at the drop of a hat. In fact, I offer that particular package to some of my clients. It_ is_ that simple."

He was making a valid point, and Liz could see that.

She took a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest. "So what you're basically saying here is that if we carry on the way that we are... you'll walk?" she asked sceptically. "If I don't talk to you, you'll walk and disappear, just like that? It's farewell and no more finding criminals?"

"It is exactly just like that, Lizzie." His tone was a little condescending. He studied her with his eyes, his head cocked slightly to the side, and Liz felt immediately vulnerable and exposed in just the shirt she was wearing. "The ball is in your court. You make the decision. The choice is all yours."

It was a big choice settling on her shoulders, she knew that. With him as her partner and his insider knowledge into the criminal underworld, Liz finally had a chance of making the world a better, safer place. For children, for their future.

"What would you prefer? The chow mein or the chicken tikka? Or perhaps a bit of both?"

She stared at him, lost. How he could change subject so fast, from something serious to trivial, was a mystery to her. "What?"

Reaching down, he pulled out the chair for her and moved back towards the kitchen to gather the containers of food. Heaving out a long sigh, she stretched the shirt down over her knees self-consciously before she sat, scrutinizing him as he returned to the table, dishing out equal portions of the hot, steaming food on the bare plates for the pair of them. The entire situation she found herself in was still unbelievable. She wasn't so sure it was real. Partly she hoped it wasn't.

She felt as if she had been thrown into the lion's den, vulnerable and defenseless. Red was the ruthless, unpredictable predator whose motives she couldn't read ahead of time and the fact that she was feeling that way in her own home, the house that she had lived in for two years with her husband, wasn't helping to ease her mind any.

It was surreal; Raymond Reddington, the Concierge of Crime, was in her house, doing something so normal and mundane as scooping food out onto plates.

Although she knew he was a man like most and that he had to eat, it still proved a lot for her to take in. But watching him now, preparing the dinner he had brought for them with a silent thoughtful expression on his face, he was no longer just a criminal in her eyes. He was a man with an appetite like all the rest. The look did not suit him, though. Without his coat or hat on, just wearing what he was; Black slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up around his forearms, he was just exactly like the average day-to-day man. Like a man providing food for a loved one. So domestic to the scale of hilarity.

Of course all the times and hours she had spent working with him had shown her otherwise. He could be ruthless, manipulative, and arrogant. All the things that constantly annoyed her.

"How do you like that Shiraz, Lizzie?" His quiet voice tore her out of her contemplative thoughts about the man standing before her, and she felt her cheeks redden.

She slipped her fingers over the stem of the glass and took a sip, judging the taste of the wine. She was no experienced wine drinker, but it was refreshing. Not too sour, not too sweet. Just somewhere in the middle, the perfect balance.

"It's very nice," she said. "But why are you here? Just to wine and dine me? Impress me?"

"It is exactly as I said, Lizzie. I want us to resolve this issue between us. I want us talking again and for you to stop sending hair-raising looks in my direction like a school girl with a grudge."

"Well, breaking into my home kind of defeats the purpose. It's not okay for you to do that. Not ever." She had to get it out there. Just had to, so he knew- in case he didn't already.

"Do you know what they say about men, Lizzie?" he asked, expertly changing the subject. Liz was used to it by now; She had learned it was his way of avoiding answering things. Deflection. Refusing to take accountability for his actions.

She decided to humor him. For the time being, anyway.

"No, what do they say?"

"They believe that the quickest way into a man's heart is through his stomach. Give him food and he'll love you like you are the finest thing that has ever walked on this earth."

He gave her a faint smile as he looked down at her.

"Yes, I have heard that."

He pushed one of the plates towards her, the China scraping against the table. The delicious smell of the food wafted up to her nostrils and enlivened her senses. "I think the same also could be said about women, wouldn't you?"

It was a remark in reference to her. She knew it. Did that mean he was trying to win her over with food? She had a faint idea that he was obsessed with her, but she never realized the full extent of it... until now.

Zamani's horrifying words instantly came back to her: _"My friend is always so obsessed with you. I'm not sure why."_

Breaking and entering into someone's house certainly were the signs of a deranged, mentally ill man, wasn't it? So the food smelt good, real good. It was hard not to just forget her manners, her outrage with him over his antics, and dig straight in. Her stomach vibrated silently with hunger.

"Well, we all have to eat," she retorted as nonchalantly as she could.

He sat down in the chair opposite her, reaching for his own glass of Shiraz. He held the rim of the glass to his lips for a second, before taking in a slow sip. His eyes were focused, burning into hers, radiating light from the candles he had lit. The rims of her ears tingled and she forced her eyes away, down on the food in front of her. Since she knew there was no way out of it, she surrendered; Picking up her fork and knife, beginning to eat.

She found her eyes continuously drifting into the hallway as she chewed and made herself swallow the food down. She heard the scraping of Red's knife against his own plate and knew he had begun his meal also. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying the flavors of the meal or Red's thoughtfulness, it was... Tom. She imagined, with some unease, the look that would come across Tom's face had he walked in through that front door and found her having a candlelit dinner with a middle-aged man splurging her with fine food and extravagant glasses of wine like a secret lover. It wouldn't have gone down so well.

"What are you thinking, Lizzie?" Red's voice interrupted her train of thought, bringing her back into the moment at hand.

She hesitated, unsure of whether to tell him the truth. Sometimes Red had the ability to read her like an open book, so lying would probably have only proved fruitless.

"I'm wondering what it would be like for Tom if he walked through the front door and saw us here like this."

"Your husband is long gone out-of-town, Lizzie. And besides we are only sharing an innocent meal together and some glasses of a very ridiculously expensive Shiraz. As you so correctly said, we all have to eat. And I, for one, always enjoy your company."

"Of course, you would enjoy it, wouldn't you?" She picked up her glass and took another sip confidently. "Being as lonely and secluded from most people in the world as you are... You have no real friends. You just have... business connections. Nothing personal. No one who wants to sit down and have dinner with you."

"Are you analyzing me now, Lizzie?" His tone was amused, and he paused for a moment, gathering a napkin to dab at the side of his mouth, "Are you using your profiler instincts?"

"You're used to having dinner alone. And now you're joyously over the moon that you've managed to drag me into having dinner with you to curb some of your loneliness."

"There is no gun pointed to your head, Lizzie," he muttered offhandedly, taking a sip of his wine. "But you are right, of course. I have been alone for far too long."

"So this never was about you wanting to resolve anything. You enjoy being around me, no matter that you have to physically impose yourself into my life in order to do it."

"I believe it is no secret how much I enjoy you, Lizzie. Have you ever been out of the country?"

"I haven't," she admitted. "Since when would I have the time to do that?"

"You should certainly make the time for it, Lizzie. You're missing out on so much of the world you haven't even yet dreamed of."

"Like what?"

"Oh, like everything. Like being in a boat, and feeling the wind in your hair. Looking out at the sea and seeing no landscape in sight, but just the water surrounding you gloriously. Sailing under the Sydney Harbor Bridge. Standing beneath the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Climbing the Great Wall of China. So many wonderful, _wonderful_ things, Lizzie."

"And I take it you have already?" It was obvious in the way he spoke of it all; With wistful longing and appreciation.

"I want to see and experience it all again, Lizzie. Just one last time. Let's face it; I'm not getting any younger. Time is slowly slipping through my fingertips like the sand in an hourglass. I want to see and feel it all again. The endless depths of the ocean as you're riding it on a boat. The fulfillment of succeeding in climbing the Great Wall. Watching ballet performances in the Sydney Opera House. But most of all, I long to see it all again with a woman. Have her laughter surrounding me. Someone who hasn't seen or experienced it yet for herself. I want so badly to see it all through her eyes. To have her with me everywhere I go. To sleep in a hotel room with her and have her legs and arms around me in the sheets. To not carry that undying sense of loneliness on my back like a devil on my shoulder."

His eyes were locked on hers intently throughout his words and Liz found herself flabbergasted that a man could speak with so much passion.

"And who is this woman you speak of?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"I think we both know who that woman is, Lizzie," he breathed in a soft, deep voice. His tone left no doubts in her that it was directed at her. "I think we both also already know that it would never happen. Not in ten years, not even in twenty. Never in this lifetime. So," he sat back in the chair with a resigned sigh, "Alas, we continue to dream until we die and its never fulfilled..." A muscle in his jaw twitched as he lifted his eyebrows at her.

She had no idea what to say. What was she supposed to say in response to something like that?

"All of this... are you... directing this at me?"

He laughed humorlessly and his eyes softened at her from where she sat. "Always so presumptuous, aren't you, Lizzie?"

"I'm married."

"Yes, well. We'll see how that ends up, won't we?"

Her appetite long gone now, Liz sat back in the chair. Red said not another word to her; He simply stared at her, as if lost in thought. There was a deep, silent melancholy inside of Red that she didn't know how to break through, no less pull him out of.

She cleared her throat, before saying gently, "I'm finished eating, if you are?"

He cleared his own throat and seemed to snap out of his thoughts. He got to his feet slowly. "Yes, I'll help you clean up, Lizzie."

In silence, she gathered the silverware and plates and walked over to the kitchen sink while he lingered behind her. She couldn't deny it had been a surprisingly enjoyable, if yet unnerving evening spent with him. They bumped and continuously brushed into each other at the small sink, and she could feel his eyes on her while she filled the sink and began washing up the dishes. It helped to pretend as if he wasn't in the room with her.

"I think it needs to be said that I appreciate everything that you have done, both for myself and for the Bureau," she said, handing him a cleanly washed plate to dry. "But that said, this can never happen again. You can't just come into my home whenever you please to have dinner with me. Tonight was enjoyable, if unexpected, but it can't happen again." When he didn't answer her, she turned to look at him, finding him standing closer to her than she knew. She eyed him seriously. "Do you understand what I'm saying? This can't happen again, Red. Let's try to keep this relationship professional and solely for work purposes."

Red's eyes warmly scrutinized all of her face. Then he nodded, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line. "I couldn't agree more, Lizzie."

"Good. So let's try to keep it that way from now on."

She turned back towards the sink, then felt her breath hitch as he leaned in against her. He slipped his arms gently around her waist and she dipped her head, pressing her lips together tightly to refrain from saying something she would later regret. She didn't know how to be anymore clearer on him. There was such a line of personal boundaries existing and touching was teetering precariously close to the edge of it. She felt him move in, until his lips were an inch or so from the shell of her ear.

"Do you know what I feel like doing right now, Lizzie?" he whispered in her ear, the words somehow sensual to her. Her stomach clenched.

"What, Red?"

"After an enjoyable meal and good company, I always feel like dancing."

One of his hands slid off her waist to wrap around one of hers tightly and he pulled her slowly away from the dishes in the sink, ignoring her half-hearted protests. Whether it was the Shiraz or the music she hadn't heard in so long, or just... Red's infectious mood in general, Liz had no idea, but she felt like dancing as well.

_This was going to be a long night... _

**_A/N: Is this something I should continue? Feel free to let me know :-)_**


End file.
